A Song Incomplete
by subversivegrrl
Summary: She had hung her happiness on someone else, and she realized that she couldn't ever truly be whole until they resolved the unanswered question.
1. Chapter 1

**Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back.** ― Plato

* * *

_Stab. Twist. _

_Stab. Twist._

Carol thrust the long blade deep into the soil, piercing another of the thick runners that fed the crabgrass and flipping the loosened remains up onto the pile in front of her. _Stab. Twist. Stab. Twist._ She unconsciously rubbed her face to clear the sweat, smearing more dirt over her already filthy skin. It was monotonous, grubby work, and it perfectly suited her mood. _Stab. Twist. Stab._

From the prison doorway, Rick and Daryl eyed her, worried. "How long's she been out here like that?" Rick asked.

"Hours. I'm not sure, but she was there when I went up in the tower to talk to Ty early this mornin', and she ain't taken a break yet that I know of. 's makin' great progress, I'll give her that, but she's gonna end up with heat stroke if she don't quit it soon. That sun's too hot to be out in it this long." Daryl had felt uneasy about Carol all week; she'd been bitchy and short-tempered with everyone, and had been spending most of her spare time either holed up in her bunk or out in the garden, taking whatever her problem was out on the weeds. He knew she and Hershel had lost a patient earlier in the week, a woman who'd had some kind of chronic condition they couldn't treat, but they'd lost a few people before like that; it was something he thought she'd come to accept as a dismal but normal fact of life these days.

Rick squinted back down the rows at Carol, unwilling to interrupt her and get the skin peeled off him for his trouble, but too concerned to just let it go. "Do me a favor, take some water out to her, would you? And maybe grab one of those hats for her?"

Daryl shrugged; "Yeah, throw _me_ under the bus," and went back inside to take care of it. His efforts to talk to her over the previous couple of days had been rebuffed, and he wasn't looking forward to more of the same, but he knew she was going to be even more miserable if she ended up sick in bed from dehydration.

* * *

He crouched down at arm's length from where she worked and held out the bottle. "Stop a minute, here, and drink this. You been out here in the sun far too long, you're gonna make yourself sick." She stopped and jammed the knife into the dirt, looking sidelong at him and pressing her lips tightly together as if holding back some smartass comment. After a long moment she reached out and took the bottle, chugging half of it down without stopping. She coughed and wiped her mouth, handing the bottle back to him with a curt, "Thanks." She took the hat he offered without comment, settling it on her head before turning back to her weeding.

He hovered nearby, feeling like he needed to say something but wanting just to turn tail and get the hell out of there. Whatever had her shorts in a twist like this, she was starting to scare the shit out of him.

He chewed on his lip for a minute, debating with himself, finally clearing his throat and saying, "Hey. Are you okay?" _Nice job, genius. Pretty obvious she ain't okay._

She slammed the knife into the ground, burying it up to the handle. "No, Daryl, I am most certainly _not_ okay. I am pissed, and I'm tired, and I haven't gotten decently laid in what, fifteen? no, make that more like _eighteen_ years. You'd think that in times like this I'd have more pressing concerns, but there you have it." Her eyes dared him to say a word, and he felt his gut churn with tension.

At his silence, she glared even more hotly at him. "What, Daryl? _What?_ Do I shock you? Is it so surprising that I'm frustrated? Is it so ridiculous that _Saint Fucking Carol Peletier_ could need to feel the touch of another human being who _wants me_? God, if I'd known what the world would come to, I'd have had a hell of a lot more sex while I had the chance, AIDS be damned."

_Fuck, what was with her_? Carol didn't talk like that. He didn't know who this was.

"Look," she said, turning her face away, her voice sounding defeated. "Just go, alright? You can't help me, and I don't feel up to coddling your... _delicate sensibilities_ right now. Just leave me alone and let me get some work done."


	2. Chapter 2

Carol turned restlessly in her bunk, trying to find a position where the scratchy sheets didn't rub against her sunburn. Her shoulders and the back of her neck had taken the worst of it, although her nose wasn't much better.

Now that she'd fairly well exhausted herself in the garden, she was regretting having lashed out at Daryl, especially since he had only been trying to look out for her. Too many hours spent in the broiling sun, wallowing in her own unhappiness. He didn't deserve to be the target of her anger, however much he might have contributed to it. _God, have a momentary fit of total honesty, and you've screwed things up even worse. _

Mrs. Spencer's death had hit her hard - the woman had been younger than Carol herself - and she had fallen into a morbid pit of self-examination, picking apart every choice she'd made in the past couple of years, every selfless and selfish reaction she'd felt.

She'd made herself an integral part of the prison group leadership, shedding a lifetime of doubts about her own worth and finding a core of granite-hard determination inside herself. She was proud of the work she did with Hershel; she could stitch up a cut or clean out a puncture wound now without flinching or feeling the least bit sick. Her attention to detail, honed by years of trying to anticipate any minor problem that could send Ed off on another storm of invective and fists, had found an outlet in organizing the everyday minutiae that kept the place running smoothly.

But at the heart of it all, she had still hung her happiness on someone else, and she had realized that she couldn't ever truly be whole until she resolved the unanswered question between herself and Daryl, and on her own terms. She remembered an inspirational plaque she had seen one time in a card shop - _Don't Postpone Joy._ It had omitted the part where you had to let go of what you thought might be joy, in order to find peace.

She could hear Daryl's footsteps as he walked the tiers, putting the prison to bed for the night. He did that a lot, particularly when he was working something out in his head. She had a pretty good idea what had him pacing the floor tonight.

When he came past her door again, she was waiting for him. "Daryl." He stopped, instantly tense. "Would you come inside, please? I need to apologize to you."

"So apologize then," he said bluntly. He wasn't going to cut her any slack, after the morning's encounter.

"Please. I need to talk to you, and I don't think either of us really wants to get into this out here, where anyone can listen." Not that metal bars and a thin sheet were going to make much difference, but at least they'd have a small amount of privacy.

She could see him shrug, his silhouette twisting as he bent to drop the crossbow from his shoulder and lean it against the wall. The damn thing was almost like a security blanket for him, and she knew if he was carrying it with him indoors he was even more upset than she'd realized.

She crawled into the far corner of her bunk, settling herself cross-legged, and watched as he took a similar position at the other end.

"I wanted to say how sorry I am for going off on you like that this morning. I know I probably embarrassed you. I'd like to blame it on the sun, but that doesn't excuse my behavior. I… I wasn't myself." He didn't look at her, but he mumbled something she thought sounded like, _tell me about it._ "We lost someone earlier this week, because we couldn't take care of her right, and it made me start thinking about… how fragile this all is. How easily things go wrong, and how we never know how much time any of us really has." He nodded; they'd all had conversations along the same lines from time to time.

"I started thinking, what does it matter if we're safe from walkers inside these fences? I could cut myself on a kitchen knife tomorrow and die of blood poisoning because we don't have the right medicine. I could fall down the stairs carrying a basket of laundry and break my neck." She could almost hear the gears in his head start to whirr, trying to think of a way to make it safer for her to tend to the laundry, and she thought she might laugh.

"None of us is safe. Not a one. It's all a huge crap shoot. I'm terrified every single time you go out those gates, thinking you might not come back. I know you have to go, but it doesn't stop me from breaking out in a cold sweat when you're late getting back, because then I might have lost any chance I had to…" She wanted so badly, for once, not to cry.

His voice was gentle. "To what, Carol?"

Her hands twisted in the fabric of her shirt, and she found she couldn't look directly at him. "I don't want to have any regrets when my time comes, Daryl. So I'm going to step over your comfort level, and ask you: is _this_ all that we're ever going to be? Because if it is, I need you to tell me so." She was looking into his face now, and felt half-dizzy, and pushed on despite it. "Tell me, and I'll stop waiting for you to be ready to take this further. Tell me, so I can move on, and find someone…"

She saw his jaw clench against whatever it was he wanted to say, and waited for him, but he only hung his head in silent misery. "You know I love you, and I'll never stop being your friend, Daryl, but I need to know if I'm ever going to be more than that to you, because the not knowing is killing me."


	3. Chapter 3

He reached out and caught her hand, turning the palm up and stroking across it with his thumb. She felt the gooseflesh rise all up her arm, and choked back a sob, seeing regret in his face and knowing what was coming. _Don't say it. I take it back, I don't want to know._ She held her head high and said, as calmly as she could around the boulder-sized lump that strained her voice, "Don't pity me, Daryl, and don't feel bad that you don't want me. Just please, tell me the truth, and let me go."

He uncoiled from where he sat and slid down the bunk to take her in his arms. She stiffened against him, and her voice broke. "_Don't._ Don't you dare feel sorry for me." She would have said more, but he brought his hand up and put his palm across her mouth.

"_Shut up_, Carol." And then he kissed her, hard, and pulled her tight against his body. There was nothing tender or testing about it, just undiluted need, mashing his lips into hers and tangling his hand in her hair. For a moment her mind went completely blank, and she felt like she was wrapped in a warm, vibrating, _airless_ cocoon. After a few seconds he relaxed his grip a bit and she was able to breathe again. She pulled her head back to break the contact, and he abruptly let go. "What'd I do wrong?"

She dropped her head, suddenly feeling absurdly shy, sitting astride his lap, nothing between them but a few layers of fabric and the air, thick with tension. "Nothing. You didn't do anything wrong. You just surprised me, is all." She lifted her eyes to him again, seeing the relief in his face, and more. _How could she have missed all of that? How could she have read him so wrong?_ So much for woman's intuition.

* * *

He ran his hands slowly up her forearms, his lips turning up at the corners as he watched the fine hairs there rise in response to his touch. She let her eyes run over his face, the long dark lashes that veiled his gaze, the sharp angle of his cheek, the messy scruff that covered his chin and framed his lips... she pushed her hand up through his bangs, uncovering his eyes, and bent to touch her lips to his. His hands slipped around to cup her ribcage, just a little too tightly, and he sighed into her mouth.

This time he was the one who pulled away. His eyes were troubled and full of doubt, and she settled back, wanting to give him space to find what he needed to say. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know… how to be sweet with you."

"But you'd like to, is that what you're telling me?" Carol felt a blush cover her cheeks to match the one rising in Daryl's face.

"No! That's just it, see? The way I just kissed you?" The words shot out of his mouth, and he twisted beneath her, spilling her off of his lap onto the bunk and catching her wrist in his grip. He held her hard and came in close to her face, his voice harsh. "What I wanna do is grab you and throw you up against the bed and make you scream so loud you wake up every sleepin' bastard in the whole place! Jesus, Carol, you're ain't the only one been starvin' around here." His breathing was ragged, his eyes dark.

Carol stared at him, feeling the flush in her face creep down over her chest, and a lazy trickle of warmth became a flood. She couldn't keep her mind from turning his words into a vivid image of… that. Having him pin her up against the bunk, stripping her bare and putting his hands everywhere, his mouth… seeing him poised above her, burying himself inside her...

He was almost shouting at her now. "Why do you think I can't stop lookin' at you every second I'm around you? Why do you think I wake up at night and come by your door, hopin' you'll be awake so I can talk to you? You're in my head so fuckin' bad I _can't_ sleep, some nights, and it ain't because I'm so crazy about your smart mouth that I can't wait to let you nag at me about some dumbass thing I done." He finally ran down, and then he snorted, apparently reconsidering what he'd just said. "Well, it ain't _only_ because I can't wait for you to call me a dumbass. Although that's pretty good some days, too."

He let go of her wrist and dug both hands into his scalp. "I'm just sayin' I don't know if I can be sweet, and court you like some kinda fuckin' high school kid, when all I wanna do is have you and make you mine, and you deserve better than some rough-ass hick who don't have the good manners to treat you like a lady." He sucked in a long breath, and looked at her warily, like some skinny alley cat who expected her to kick him and send him on his way.

A part of her wanted to hug him and tell him he was being a dumbass. A bigger part longed to be under him, and let him do exactly what he wanted.

"But I want that, too, don't you see? I want you in my bed, in _me_. As often as we can manage. You've been the main attraction in some awfully dirty dreams, Daryl, dreams that have kept me going. Kept me hoping. And I mean to find out..." She swallowed. She'd never spoken of such things. "I want to know what you sound like. What you taste like. How you like to be touched. I mean to keep finding out, for as long as you'll have me." The color rose again in his cheeks, and his eyes grew bright and speculative, as if he were wondering exactly how explicit her dreams had been.

"As far as sweetness goes, it's overrated, and I don't need to be courted. Courting is for someone who needs to be convinced, and we're well past that now, wouldn't you say?" She let a teasing note slip into her voice, trying to reassure him that nothing he'd said had made her doubt him. "I want _you_, you rough-ass hick. Every flawed, bad-tempered inch of you. Every sweet, tender, caring bit of you, and you can't tell me those parts of you don't exist, because I see them every day, even if you don't. I may have been the densest woman around, not to have known how you feel about me, but I know your heart, and that's the part that I fell in love with a long time ago."

He flinched a little at that word, _love_, and he sneered at her, grumbling, "You don't have no idea what the hell you're signin' on for, sweetheart. You're in for nothin' but heartache and headache, 'cause I ain't ever gonna be an easy ride. "

She couldn't resist taking a swing at a slow pitch like that, and said, sweetly, "Any kind of _ride_ is good with me."

He shot a dirty look her way and said, "See? Smart-mouthin' me. I suppose you're gonna chew on my ass all the time about cuttin' my hair and not takin' stupid chances and lettin' you know where I am every second?"

She laughed outright at that, and shook her head. "I'd be a fool to think I could ever domesticate you, Daryl. I know you're going to be a pain in my ass, and yes, sometimes I'll probably be too pushy, and you'll hate it, and we'll fight, and we'll make up. I think that's the way it's supposed to go, although God knows my history hasn't been the healthiest example of how a relationship should work."

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close, for once remembering to be cautious of her sunburnt arms, and kissed her temple. "I still think you're crazy, but if you're sure this is what you want…"

"It's not just my choice. If we're going to do this, we have to choose each other."

He shook his head. "Choice was made a long time ago, as far as I'm concerned. I'm long since bought and paid for. Ain't been anyone else in my eyes, and if you didn't know that before, you know it now."

She closed her eyes and listened to him breathe, listened to her heart, stuttering along and trying to adjust to the nearness of him, and the thought that he was hers now, for better or worse. "Me, too, Daryl. You know that, don't you? So if some other man starts a conversation with me, or pays me some kind of special attention…?"

"...he'll get a boot up his ass, and an escort to the gate."

She sighed. "We'll add that to the list of things we need to talk about. Starting tomorrow. I don't know about you, but I'm falling asleep here."

"So my earlier suggestion's out of the question, then."

She giggled, and blushed, and said, "That's a very tempting offer, but it would be way too embarrassing if I nodded off while you were ravishing me."

"Trust me, darlin'," he growled, "When I finally get to ravish you, sleep's gonna be the last thing on your mind."

She grinned at him, already trying to plan exactly when and where that could happen. "You could sleep here with me tonight, though."

"Nah, you're gonna be tossin' and turnin' all night, I can tell right now. From the sunburn, I mean," and he winked at her, and bent to kiss her one more time, with feeling. "'night, sweetheart. Good dreams."


	4. Chapter 4

It was the third day since she and Daryl had had their late-night encounter, and she'd barely seen him since, let alone had an opportunity to talk to him, or to… let him make good on his promised attentions. The discovery of a newly sagging section of the outer fence had taken all available hands the better part of a day to shore it up, and the next morning he'd gone out early to scout the forest, hoping to find some game to bring back, and he hadn't yet returned. It was completely normal; still, Carol could almost convince herself that she'd imagined their heart-to-heart talk, or, in her most maudlin moments, that they were fated never to find both the time and the privacy to move their relationship - if that's what anyone would call it at this point - forward.

As he'd left, though, with the usual, mutual promises to "stay safe," he'd pressed a folded scrap of paper into her hand. She'd slipped it into a pocket and only looked at it when she was alone, in the privacy of her own cell.

"_You're the one true thing I ever knew._"

It made her breath catch in her throat. She wasn't even sure what it meant, exactly, but such an intimate, obviously heart-felt admission was without a doubt one of the most head-spinning things she'd ever encountered. She returned the note to her pocket, and it rode with her throughout the rest of the day, never far from her mind.

In the afternoon of the third day, Michonne caught up with Carol as she walked the fence line, mostly just from habit, but also wanting to be out there to see Daryl when he got back. The two of them paced silently along the well-worn path, checking on the most recent repairs and keeping an eye out for any new issues. Michonne was good company, as long as your definition of "good company" included a willingness to forego idle pleasantries. This time, though, the woman surprised her.

"I'm here on an assignment," Michonne said, and flashed one of her rare, toothy smiles. She dug into a pocket and came up with a small square of folded paper. "I was told to make sure you got this today, and not before."

Carol hesitated before taking the proffered note. "Is that all he said?" she asked.

Michonne lifted a shoulder and said, "You know how closed-mouthed he can be. I asked if there was any other message, and all he would say was, 'I can get somebody else to do this.'" She patted Carol's arm and stepped away, saying, "I'd say I was dying of curiosity, but truth is, I have a pretty good idea what's up, and frankly, it's about time." She stopped a little ways away and said, "He's being good to you?"

Carol felt her cheeks pink up, and she smiled at the other woman. "The best, Michonne."

This time she stopped behind the guard tower to open the note. "_I want to know all those things about you, too._" She got so light-headed she had to clutch at the wall to keep her balance. _...what you sound like. What you taste like. How you like to be… Damnit, Daryl,_ she groaned to herself, _get home. _

Just at sunset, as she finally seated herself at the table with her own plate of food, she looked up, and he was there in the doorway, his eyes fixed on her. She rose from her seat, unaware she had done so until he came alongside her and said under his breath, "Finish your dinner. I'm gonna clean up some. And then I'll be back for you. Someone else can tidy up here."


	5. Chapter 5

She met him at the door to the mess hall, and he caught her hand in his, pulling her quickly out into the hall, unspeaking, and drawing her along in his wake as he headed up to his cell. She caught a couple of surprised glances along the way, but his urgency transmitted itself to her and she found she didn't much care if anyone reached the obvious conclusion.

His hair was dripping and uncombed, and a feral heat came off him in waves, making her shiver. As he reached his cell door, he glanced over, and stopped dead in front of her. "Last chance to change your mind."

She shook her head, smiling, her pulse drumming in her ears. "No, Daryl. I'm like you - my choice was made long ago." And she stepped up to him and wound her arms around his neck.

He made an inarticulate sound of need and pressed her back against the bars, burying his face in her neck and nipping at the skin there. "Thank god. Didn't get a damn thing out there, couldn't keep my mind on the hunt, just wanted to get back here and do _this_…" he caught her thighs in his hands and lifted her, pulling her legs around him and moving against her, "...and _this_…" he bent his head and ran his tongue down into her cleavage and back up her throat, catching her lower lip in his teeth before diving into her mouth. She moaned under the intensity of his kisses and wrapped her arms around his back.

She pulled back a little to catch her breath. "_Inside_, Daryl. Unless you plan on taking me right out here in front of God and everybody," she murmured, biting his lip.

"Don't think I won't, you little hellcat," he growled, but set her down gently before capturing her lips again and walking her backward into the cell. He stepped back for a moment, reaching behind him to close the door and unhook the blanket so it dropped over the opening, his eyes never leaving her. He leaned against the door, crossing his arms in front of him and looking at her appraisingly. "So how does this go, then? Clothes off, and we go at it like a coupla wolverines?"

She nearly choked with surprised laughter, and felt a hot blush run up her body. "I don't know how wolverines, uh, 'go at it,' as you put it, but… how about if we slow things down just a bit, take our time? I don't know about you, but I'm a little out of practice - more than a little, honestly, and I want it to be…"

He was looking at her like she was birthday cake and the Fourth of July and Christmas all rolled into one. "Memorable? I can guarantee it's gonna be memorable." He moved up on her again and put his hands on her hips, dropping his lips to her ear. "Yeah, slow is good. I'm so wired up, I'm afraid it'd all be over too soon anyway."

She leaned into him and said, "Well, it's not like it's a one-time-only deal. If it's over too quickly, we can just take our time the next time."

He shook his head and said, "Only one _first_ time, though."

She looked at him, a little stunned. "Why, Daryl Dixon. I'd never have taken you for such a romantic fool."

He grinned happily and said, "Y'know, you tell anyone, I'll have to kill you."

She found herself grinning back at him and said, "Then I'd die happy."


	6. Chapter 6

He reached for her, and she backed away, smiling, waving a warning finger at him. "Uhn-uh - this is the look-don't-touch portion of our entertainment." He narrowed his eyes, but settled back against the cell door again. Carol wet her lips and looked down at herself, unfastening her shirt carefully, one button at a time, until it hung open over her belly. She shot a glance over at Daryl, who watched her, alert as a coiled rattler. She opened her belt, slipping the tongue out of its loop, pulling the strap from the buckle before her hands moved to pop the button on her jeans and unzip them, allowing both to hang loose over her hips. She eyed Daryl, whose breath was becoming audible now in the confined space. Standing there with her clothes in disarray, she nodded her head at him, and said, "Now you."

He reached quickly for the back of his collar and went to skin out of his shirt in one move, but her noise of disappointment stopped him. "No fair cheating. I went slow for you, you take your time so I can appreciate the scenery." He rolled his eyes and sighed, but there was a twinkle in his eyes as he pulled his shirt back down and began to unfasten it, pausing dramatically after each button, until he reached the last and flipped the shirttail out of the way, exposing his flat stomach and the muscled lines of his hips that drew her eyes down to the top of his low-slung jeans. Her heart skipped crazily, and he smiled as he lazily ran a hand across his belly, seeing the color rush into her cheeks. His hand continued down, slithering over his belt and down the front of his pants, where it loosely cupped what waited there for her. "Sure you still want me to take it slow?" She nodded, her mouth so dry she didn't think the words would come out if she tried.

Daryl shrugged, seeming to enjoy this little game almost as much as she was, and crouched to untie his boots and kick them off. He slid his shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor, then said, "I undo this belt and I'm bareass in front of you. Don't think that's really fair, do you?"

She was tired of waiting, and stepped into his space, her hand reaching between her breasts to pop the catch on her bra. She rolled her shoulders, dropping both shirt and bra behind her, and his eyes grew wide and dark at her boldness. Her pants slid off her hips and fell around her calves as she leaned into Daryl's chest, taking a nipple between her lips, using the tip of her tongue to drag it up against her teeth. She dropped a hand between them and ran her thumb up the hardening length of him, and he yelped and jumped back, pulling his hips away from her lightning-fast. He blew out a sudden, shaky gust of air, his lip curling in disbelief and something like admiration. "You touch me like that again, I'm done. Gimme a second, here," and he leaned against the cell wall, watching her.

She just cocked an eyebrow at him and sat on the bed to shed her boots and pull her trousers the rest of the way off, ending up perched at the edge of the bunk in nothing but a pair of pale blue nylon panties. He shook his head in wonder. "You got no shame whatsoever, do you, sweetheart? I think I like that."

For a moment Carol seriously considered his question - was she past all shame, now? She thought maybe she was. Certainly past the point where her baggage could make her stop what she was doing right at that moment.

He came back to her then, kneeling on the concrete between her thighs, and leaned in to kiss her again, his hands rising along her arms, prickles of gooseflesh following their path. His tongue slid between her lips, and she opened her mouth to him in welcome, an involuntary _mmm_ leaping from her throat. The backs of his fingers skimmed down her ribs, and his palms settled over her hips and pulled her close around him. Her nipples rose to attention, tickled by the fine coating of hair on his chest, firming as he dropped his mouth down her neck and followed her breastbone down, turning to tongue first one breast, then the other. He surprised her by swiftly tugging her hips out from under her to drop her back on the bunk, then bending to sweep her legs up over his shoulders so he could kiss the insides of her thighs. His hands were strong along her hip and up on her belly as he moved forward, nosing into the center of her, his tongue probing through the thin fabric that covered her.

Carol reached blindly for him, running her fingers into the damp, dark thatch of his hair, wanting to pull him full-force into her but not quite daring. She felt his fingers catch the thin elastic banding her thighs and pull her panties off, following them with his mouth to dip his tongue into her navel and outline her hipbones, finally kissing the patch of hair where her thighs met. His eyes rose to meet hers, and she nodded her permission. His calloused fingers were whisper-soft as they parted her lips, as though he were undoing a tiny, silk-wrapped present. He leaned forward, stroking his tongue over her slickness. "_Fuck_, Carol, you taste like a damn' creamsicle. Little sweet, little tangy..." His words disappeared as he dove in, his breath hot against her skin as his tongue speared into her flesh, his lips finding the tender nub of her clit and teasing it, and he slid first one, and then a second finger deep inside. Carol writhed against him, relishing the sheer overwhelming feeling of having his hands and mouth on her, but she wanted _more_. Her hand pulled lightly at his hair, which only made him growl at her (and _those_ vibrations nearly sent her over the edge); it took a second hand pulling to divert him from his target.

"Daryl, please - I want you inside me the first time I come with you." She didn't have to ask him twice, and he nearly tore his pants open getting them off. His hand went to a pocket, coming back with a foil-wrapped condom, but she laid her hand on his before he could get it open. "Save those for Glenn and Maggie. We don't need them."

He looked at her, confused. "What? Ain't you…?" and she shook her head.

"We should have talked about this before, shouldn't we? I had my tubes tied while I was in the hospital when Sophia was born. Ed never knew. I loved my girl, and I never _once_ regretted her, but I didn't want to bring a child of his into the world in the first place, and after my birth control failed once, I couldn't take the chance of a second." Her voice was sad, and he couldn't help but take her in his arms, laying his lips against her hair, wishing he could take away the pain of having loved and lost that little girl.

Carol was the one to break the embrace, and she pushed him back on the bunk and swung her leg over to straddle him. He looked up at her, asking, "You okay?" and she nodded, leaning forward to kiss him, rubbing her nipples against his chest. His hands came up to encircle her waist, and she felt him begin to respond again, so she widened her thighs a little, sinking more deeply down over his hips and rocking her pelvis against him. His eyes went wide as he felt the wet heat of her grind into him. "I ain't ever gone bareback before," he whispered, and that heated admission swept through Carol like a wildfire. He put his thumb in his mouth, and slid his hand between them; she felt him rest the slippery tip of his thumb against her clit, pulling the hooded flesh there forward and back, sending bolts of electricity up her spine and down to curl her toes. She raised herself up and felt him position himself beneath her so all she had to do was sink slowly down onto him, filling her from her tailbone to the top of her skull.

She stopped, her eyes closed, feeling the heat of him inside her like she'd never known it before, then they began to move together, finding a rhythm between them that built and built and spiraled out of control. He began to curse, low and vehement under his breath, punctuating every time their bodies collided, _fuck shit carol jesus fuck god_, and he grabbed her arms and turned her beneath him, driving into her like a hurricane. "I can't hold out much longer," he gritted out, and she moved her hand to touch herself, bring herself closer so she could come with him. "Ah, Jesus, Carol, do it, I wanna see you go..." and his gravely plea made every nerve ending in her bunch up tight and sent her cartwheeling over the edge. The clutch of her muscles around him took him along with her, and he plunged against her once, twice more before he slumped on top of her. shuddering. And _laughing_. She wanted to weep from the unexpected joy of hearing him laugh. "Jesus Christ, that was good. Why the hell did we wait so long to do this?" He buried his face in her shoulder, shaking his head and mumbling, _Brainless, time-wasting dumbass._

After a few minutes she felt him shift his weight, and opened her eyes to see a wicked glint in his. "I just learned somethin' new about you. You're _quiet_ when you come. How'm I ever gonna get a rep as a big stud if I don't make you scream?"

She pushed him, none too gently, off of her, and sat up to glare at him. "How about this: we _don't_ advertise your prowess, so I don't have to contend with flocks of horny women wanting to compete for your services?"

"So I got prowess, then?" He preened a little, and she had to laugh.

"Oh, yeah, Dixon. I'd say you've got some skills. And here you've been hiding behind this shy act all this time."

He got serious on her then, and said, "Wasn't no act. Just never wanted… I never had…" He stopped, and frowned, frustrated. "Never cared before what a woman wanted. Only took care of an itch when I needed to, and if she didn't know enough to get her own, too, that was too damn bad. But you - I wanted to get you so high you'd never come down. And that made it better. Ain't ever been that good f' me before."

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She'd always believed that's what it was supposed to be like - two people reaching to give each other new heights. Even when you didn't succeed, it was the trying that mattered.

He looked at her, suspiciously. "So you knew that's how it would be? That's ain't very fair, to know something like that and keep it from me."

"I apologize, Daryl. I confess that when planning on jumping your bones, I did not realize that you might not already know how good sex can be when both people are invested in seeing how crazy they can make each other in the process. I didn't mean to withhold vital information from you."

He _hrmph_ed, and said, "You _should_ apologize. Only one way you can make it up to me, and that's to let me practice as often as possible, make up for lost time."

She allowed herself to fall back into the cradle of his arm, sighing. "Have I created a monster here? Yes, Daryl, I promise, we can practice, practice, practice."

"Good," he said, satisfied. "'Cause I love it." And in his voice she heard what he wasn't saying, that it was more than just the sex.

"I love it too, you ol' rough-ass hick. Good thing, too, 'cause no other woman's going to put up with you the way I do." And in her voice she put everything she didn't say, that there was time, now, to let that grow..


End file.
